


Royally Screwed

by viraseii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Assassination, Bad Puns, Childhood Trauma, Illegal Activities, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Poverty, Sex, Violence, i try writing straight up pwp but i cant help it i get too involved in the intricacies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viraseii/pseuds/viraseii
Summary: Lance is a prince.Keith is an assassin.





	Royally Screwed

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally just an excuse to name a story "royally screwed" because person A gets fucked by person B who is royalty

The Prince is pretty. Very much so. The finest gem of the Altean Empire, he was called when he was born, or so Keith hears. His eyes are certainly deserving of the title, deep blue like twilit sky as it edges toward the witching hour. Unkempt as it's gotten over the last few weeks, his hair still glistens like it's brushed through with gold - and Keith supposes it probably has been, a few times at least.

He keeps a grace about him even when he's shackled to the bed. He walks with pride that refuses to be beat out, eats with delicacy and manners for the dark empty room, speaks with educated confidence demanding his freedom, sleeps with quiet peace wrapped in threadbare blankets shielding against musty air.

He's wary the first time Keith makes conversation with him. The way his room is, it's open to their main hall where they eat, where they strategize and plan, where their visitors are admitted, where they keep at least two people on watch 24/7, because Lotor says he wants to keep the Prince within sights. His bathroom is shielded by nothing more than a curtain and he spends most of his time in bed to avoid interaction. The very first time Keith makes conversation with him is when Keith's carrying a second platter of food over to him for dinner, and he asks the Prince how he is.

Stupid question.

The Prince just makes eye contact with him for a couple uncomfortable seconds before silently picking up a roll and biting into it.

"I bet you're used to... knives, and shit," Keith says, raising an eyebrow at the way he gingerly holds his bread.

"Something of the sort," he answers after swallowing, eyes calculating and distrusting.

"Our knives are for more important things than slicing bread."

The Prince nods, emphatically like he's having a really engaging conversation. "Yeah. Did you know I've had one pressed to my throat before?"

Keith's taken slightly aback, but he narrows his eyes and lets out a slow, almost disappointed-sounding breath.

He eats with the Prince, savoring every bite slowly while the Prince devours his food across the table. He gets funny looks thrown at him from the rest of the Hall, looks questioning why the hell he's eating with the _Prince._

"Ransom for you has grown to one point five million," Keith supplies idly.

"You are not skilled with the finer intricacies of conversational etiquette," the Prince bites back. Again, Keith's surprised at the amount of venom and spite bubbling under those vibrant blue eyes. He leaves the Prince to himself after a few more minutes, moving to talk to people who like him more and are less angry because they aren't being held hostage.

Keith wanders into the kitchen after dinner, watching the workers on duty as they scrub dishes in exchange for protection, for money, for something to do. Some of them hope to become members of the Galra someday.

"Raira," he calls. She looks up, eyes wide at being singled out. "Give me a knife."

She pulls back from the sink somewhat. "I..."

"Not too sharp. Good enough to cut bread with." She frowns. " _Now._ " It earns him a hurried nod and hasty fumbling as she grabs a dirty knife and runs it through soap and water, handing him the cleaned product with a towel. "Thanks." He slips it up his sleeve and turns to leave, pausing to grab a few raspberries from a bowl in the corner on the way out.

His second conversation with the Prince is two days later. He walks back after everyone has left the Hall, late at night but earlier than when most people sleep. He finds him curled up in bed, as usual, but the Prince turns to look at him when he hears the approaching steps.

Keith stops and takes a seat at the table as the Prince sits up, gaze curious but still cautious. "Evening," Keith greets.

"What is it," he asks lowly.

"I just said good evening."

The Prince raises an eyebrow. "Absolutely divine when you're chained to a bed and behind glass like a petting zoo animal."

Keith raises his eyebrow. "Well, I'm not here to pet you."

"How kind."

Keith huffs. It's actually pretty amusing to talk to him, even if Keith's the direct recipient of all that sarcasm. He slides the knife he took from the kitchen earlier out of his sleeve and tosses is it to the Prince, who catches it by the handle with an expression of pure confusion draped over his face. "Knife."

The Prince stares at it in his hands for a second - and then he starts laughing, and Keith can't really tell if it's genuine or bitter. Maybe both. "Thanks. This is true luxury."

"You'd know."

"Yes. I would." The Prince considers the knife. He presses his thumb to the tip, looking almost disappointed upon realizing how blunt it is, and then immediately throws the blankets off to jab it into the lock around his ankle.

"That's not going to work," Keith says, something almost like sadness twinging in his voice. The Prince seems like he catches onto it, glancing up with a narrow-eyed look like he's reevaluating his opinion of Keith. "You'll break the knife. And I'm not going to steal you another one."

"Honored," the Prince says curtly, and Keith rolls his shoulders back.

"It must be great," he says, patience finally wearing thin at the constant sarcasm, "growing up without even knowing what it means to wish for something, because you've already got it all. Must feel amazing to know that your family can just pay - what's your price, two million this week? No big deal for people like you - and then you'll be back behind your secure walls of lies and corruption plated in gold that you stole from your own people."

"They won't pay," the Prince declares, a surprising lack of anger or defense in his voice. No, this sounds more... defeated. "They won't give you anything for me, not if you asked for the clippings of their pinky toe."

Keith frowns. "Why's that?"

"It's..." he shrugs. "You're very kind for procuring me a knife."

Not really the smoothest topic change, but okay. Keith shrugs. "Anything else you want, let me know, I guess."

"A horse."

"We're not rich like you."

"Really? Lawless men like you, don't you just steal what you want?"

"We have law. Big one is equality. One of them is also not stealing frivolous things for mere pleasure, because there are people who actually need the things we want to entertain ourselves with," Keith scowls.

"That's not law," the Prince scoffs. "That's a... a code."

"Still more honorable than what currently stands in the empire."

The Prince just stares at him, not responding. Like he's a little hurt, a little critical, a little distant.

The next time Keith talks to the Prince is mostly uneventful. As is the time after that, and the time after that.

The sixth encounter Keith has is a little after lunch. He's missed the usual crowd for food and when he gets to the Hall, it's mostly empty. There are a few people here and there, mostly distracted and absorbed within themselves. Keith gets his food and looks over to the Prince's room. It strikes him how dark it's always kept - there are no lights, because all light comes from the Hall anyway.

What he's interested in is why Lotor is inside. He's having some conversation with the Prince, whose arms are crossed. A few minutes go by where Keith watches them engage in some passionate discussion, and then Lotor is drawing his sword and Keith rises and makes his way over, deciding he doesn’t like that. He lowers his gaze and weaves his hand into his hair absently as he approaches, stopping suddenly and glancing up quickly like he didn't know Lotor was there.

"Oh..." his eyes shift from Lotor to Narti in the corner of the room, who's got one hand on her gun. "I didn't realize I was interrupting anything... I can come back later?"

Lotor has his sword leveled at the Prince's throat, but he steps back and lowers his arm. "What business do you have here?"

Keith frowns. "I was checking to see if anyone brought him lunch..."

Lotor sheaths his sword, movements angry and jerky. "He's fine." Then he nods to Narti. "Narti! We're done here." He pushes past Keith roughly on his way out. Narti spares Keith a single glance before following him out.

Keith shivers. "Narti gives me chills," he mutters when they're gone. The Prince frowns. "What was he asking you, Prince?"

"It's Lance," the Prince sighs. "You can call me Lance. It's not like I'm the Prince of anything in this shithole, anyway." Keith nods slowly. It's the first time Prince Lance has used any manner of casual speech with him. "He just... he's mad that my family doesn't give a shit about me. And he wanted to know how to get into the Castle. Threats, whatnot." Then he throws his arm up in the air. "Why does he even use a sword?! What millennium does he think we're in, the second? Fucking ancient."

Keith can't help it - he laughs. Prince Lance glares at him.

"What's funny?"

"You... have a bit of a dirty mouth," Keith decides.

Prince Lance holds up a fist like he's about to shoot Keith the bird before seemingly regaining control of himself and lowering it with a clenched jaw. Keith frowns at his clothes.

"How long you been wearing that?"

Prince Lance crosses his arms. "I don't know. Enough for the price you idiots are demanding to be raised to a three million? I told you. They're not going to pay."

Keith shakes his head. "You never told me why."

He frowns and then sits down on the bed. "My older sister will be Queen. I'm not... I don't offer anything to the throne. And I've refused every betrothal. They're glad to be rid of me."

Keith raises his eyebrows in mockery. "That's some dilemma."

Prince Lance looks up at him. "If you're going to lecture me about the people out here and how they don't have the liberty of refusing marriage or how they may not even have a family to begin with, you can save it. I get it."

Keith frowns. "Well, alright, then. I won't."

And then tears spring to Prince Lance's eyes. "I just want to go home."

Keith's mouth parts in shock. He doesn't know how to deal with this - he's been prepared all this time for the Prince to fight for freedom or try to escape, throw sarcastic comments around, be generally disagreeable. But he's crying. He's crying and Keith finds himself hating that. Finds himself wanting to stop the Prince's face from twisting that way. Wanting to maybe put a smile on it, instead, one day. Maybe.

"Hey..." he steps forward and places one hand on the Prince's shoulder, but he shrugs him away. "Pr... Lance..."

"I don't even have _privacy._ "

"I mean, you're held for ransom."

Which, funnily enough, only pushes the Prince to cry harder.

Fuck.

"It's gonna be okay, Lance..."

"How can you promise that," the Prince says in a quiet voice, "when you're the reason I'm here?"

Keith hesitates. "Well... I'm part of the people who took you, so... I'll make sure nothing happens to you. The Galra can be really cruel. I'll... I'll protect you." He winces, not entirely sure what promise it is he's just made.

The Prince peers up at him, arms crossed and eyes moist. Keith drops his hand from his shoulder. "Okay," the Prince says quietly.

Keith frowns and turns his face away, not sure how to feel about the open look the Prince is giving him. "Do you need anything?"

"... No."

So Keith gives him a nod and leaves. He returns to his lunch, and it feels like the Prince's eyes are on him, but when he glances over, Prince Lance is in his bed again, back facing Keith.

The next time Keith sees him is after dinner again. He tosses a stack of folded clothes over into Prince Lance's lap, who just kind of stares at it. "Change of clothes," Keith provides helpfully.

"Ah," the Prince acknowledges. "That's very kind of you."

Keith sits down heavily next to him on the bed. "Why do you do that?"

Prince Lance blinks at him inquisitively.

"Talk all formal and fancy sometimes, and casual other times."

He cocks one eyebrow. "You haven't seen my casual talk yet, pretty boy."

Keith raises both his eyebrows. Pretty boy. "Well, why not? Why keep up the whole... high and mighty prince speech?"

Prince Lance seems to be considering it. Then he winks at Keith. "People can't resist me otherwise."

Keith's eyebrows arch high, his mouth dropping open. "You're a flirt," he states.

"If that's what you want it to be," Prince Lance says innocently.

Keith lets out a hollow laugh, breathy with surprise. "Well. I learned something about you today." He nods to the bathroom. "Are you _not_ eager to change?"

The Prince opens his mouth again, his eyes sparkling mischievously, but then seems to decide against it, which is a little disappointing. He seems to deflate a little too with the decision to stay silent, but he stands and disappears behind the curtain. The only sound is the clink of the chain around his ankle, and then the shower's running.

Keith leans back and lies in the Prince's bed while he waits. It smells, the stench of sweat thick and choking. Keith's repulsed - and then he wonders how the Prince manages to spend day and night in here, week after week after week.

And he hasn't complained once, not really. Sure, he's complained about wanting to be free, but never about his dirty clothes or his bed or anything else.

The Prince returns half an hour later, mismatched in a clean but plain black shirt and his tailored pants, dirty and worn. Keith raises an eyebrow. "Why didn't you..." he trails off as Prince Lance kicks up his foot, rattling the chain that Keith can now see prevents him from changing his pants. "Oh..."

There's another twinge of sadness like before. The Prince just sits back down on the bed next to Keith. "Thank you," he says, tipping his head sideways in Keith's direction. 

It's quieter, the Hall mostly cleaned out. Keith takes time to study the Prince's profile - flushed cheeks, rosy lips, chapped now but still lush. Those blue eyes.

The finest gem of the Altean Empire.

"Don't let Lotor get to you," Keith says slowly. The Prince's calculating gaze immediately turns on Keith, head tilted in curiosity. Keith swallows. There's something in the way the Prince watches what he says, so carefully like he's memorizing every word. "Don't give up the Castle's secrets."

"I wasn't planning on it," the Prince says, and for some reason there's suspicion creeping into his voice. Keith keeps his eyes on him, carefully watching his controlled face. "I'm born to serve my state and I won't give that right up to criminals, regardless of how much you threaten me or how much you flatter me."

Keith frowns. He thinks he knows what the Prince is getting at. "Do you think I'm flattering you?"

"The suspicion has crossed my mind."

"You feel that I'm being nice to you just to make you open up."

"Is that so unbelievable?"

Keith's a little hurt. Something in him was kind of hoping that they... well. "I'm nice to you because I consider you and I to have... the beginning of a friendship," he decides.

"But you hate the Royalty."

"Not really," Keith admits. "I'm... I'm bitter about how I've been treated, and how instead of trying to remedy it or help me, the authorities have chosen to eat money and ignore the problems. But then I started talking to you, and I guess..."

The Prince raises his eyebrows. "What do you mean how you've been treated?"

Keith pulls in a breath to let out slowly. "I... when I was young," he starts. "I don't know, six or seven years old. My parents were killed in an accident. Both of them, hit and run. On the road. The pod missed me, flew right over my head-" Keith mimics the motion by swiping a hand over his head. "Ruffled my hair a bit. But for both of them it was a head on collision.

"You know who it was? It was a noble, trying to get to some stupid dinner party at your Castle. Someone who witnessed the accident called the police, but they took one look at the camera feeds and declared it my parents fault. I should have been placed into the care system, but they chose to ignore my existence.

"Well, the witness who'd called in was a member of the Galra. He brought me here, trained me, taught me to fight and look after myself. His name was Kolivan. He was shot and killed by police just a couple years ago." Keith looks up to make eye contact with the Prince, then. "And I've hated your family's guts ever since."

The Prince looks taken aback. "Keith, I... I'm sorry, I had no idea that had ever happened to you..."

Keith barks out a bitter laugh. "It's not just me. I have a happier story than half the people here. Your state which you say you were born to serve is rotting away in the gutter, and you're up in your golden tower learning how to ballroom dance."

The Prince doesn't answer.

Keith shakes his head. "That's just... to help you understand. Why I used to hate you."

"Used to?"

"Used to."

"What about now?"

… Keith stares at his hand, at a loss for words. His feelings are new. Untested against time or hardship. Saying them out loud will mean committing to them.

So he goes for a half-truth.

"I like you a little better after knowing you."

The Prince swallows and glances down. "Well... you better hope to God my family actually pays. Because if I go back... I'll fix this. I promise."

Those words change something for Keith.

They set some kind of spiral in motion, and Keith's falling down and down, and he only realizes it a few days later as a feeling he hasn't felt in... he can't even remember.

It's the tragic downward spiral of hope.

Sendak tracks him down eventually. He's started spending time with Prince Lance every spare moment, after every meal. The only time he really misses his usual schedule of visiting him is when Keith's on a mission doing something somewhere - assassinations, sabotage runs, interrogations, thieving. They take days sometimes and the Prince always asks him what they did when Keith comes back.

But Sendak tracks him down and demands to know why Keith's been taking an interest in their hostage. Accuses him a couple times of being a mole, of planning to help Prince Lance escape. Keith denies it, says that his main plan of action is to gain the Prince's trust - to Stockholm syndrome it and gain the secrets of the Castle that way. Sendak lets him off, but passes off a mission to Keith before he leaves.

Tells him he's going to take a vacation and Keith will have to take over for him on a small interrogation.

With a noble.

A noble who happened to be late to a certain dinner party almost twenty years ago, who happened to hit a certain unsuspecting couple, who happened to orphan their child in his haste to get to this certain dinner party.

Sendak smiles and claps Keith on the shoulder.

And then he leaves, and Keith feels nauseous.

Prince Lance is able to tell he's on edge as the date they've set for the interrogation approaches. "You've got a new weapon," he notes one day, and Keith pulls out the new, longer knife, thinner, still slick with blood he needs to clean.

"Yeah, wanna check it out?" he throws out, and Prince Lance startles and leans back from Keith on the bed. Fear is written clearly across his every perfect feature. Keith sheathes the knife, scowling. "Here," he growls, pulling out a folded square of cloth from his pocket. "Bedsheet. This one smells like shit."

The Prince nods. "Yeah, I know. Thanks." They both stand so Lance can change the sheet, but he doesn't move.

"What are you waiting for?"

Prince Lance hesitates. "I haven't had any experience with chores like this."

Keith's mouth parts. "I keep forgetting you're a goddamn prince."

"I keep forgetting you're a criminal who _kills_ people," Lance returns.

Keith rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Look. First you take off everything else except the sheet." Prince Lance hesitates some more before leaning down to gather the blankets in his arms.

"Where am I supposed to put it?"

"It doesn't matter, anywhere," Keith sighs. He grabs the pillow and flings it to the floor. After another second Lance drops the blankets on the ground. "Now you pull the sheet off."

Again, hesitation-

"Dude, it's not _hard._ Just grab it and pull it off," Keith says impatiently. The Prince does so, looking honestly surprised at the white mattress beneath. "Congrats. Now you put the new one on, and tuck it in under the mattress at the sides."

"Okay..." Prince Lance mutters, unfurling the sheet and laying it over the mattress. He tries to kneel on the mattress and tuck it in - Keith starts laughing, and he shoots him a dirty, pouty look.

"Wow. Alright, wait, get off." Keith helps him tuck the sheet in, then grabs the blankets and pillows and tosses them back over the bed. "Sweet dreams," he says, amused. "You've learned something today."

He moves to leave, but the Prince calls out to him at the last second. "Keith?" Keith pauses, turns his head slightly to acknowledge he's listening. "I like talking to you. A lot. Really. Thank you."

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Likewise," he says vaguely before leaving.

Keith takes guard the night before they're scheduled for the interrogation. Prince Lance watches him curiously for the first few minutes, but Keith's partnered with Vladnok tonight and doesn't pay him any heed until Vladnok decides to.

He hears their voices and decides to come over, standing and hopping down from his perch on the higher floor where they monitor the traffic. The Prince's attention snaps to him immediately, expression strangely complex.

"What's going on here?" he says casually, leaning against the inside of the glass wall between the Prince and the Hall.

"Just making conversation," Vladnok says, but something in her tone makes Keith narrow his eyes. The Prince is standing, arms crossed, eyes on Keith. "Why don't you show me if the rumors are true?" This is directed at the Prince.

"Rumors," Keith repeats.

"Oh, you know," Vladnok says in a saccharine voice. "That peasant girl, Nyma? Who he took into the castle for a night? She told the story well. It's the dream of so many of us country girls. We're all waiting for the Prince of Altea to come sweep us off our feet for one promising night. And Prince, it must be boring sitting here day by day."

Prince Lance looks... almost disappointed? His eyes are still on Keith, who still leans on the glass, unmoving, expression unchanging.

"While your adorations flatter me," Prince Lance says, his voice wary. "I'm afraid your answer is no. Nyma has spread false hope." His eyes shift to watch her.

Vladnok smiles and steps closer to him and starts to say something else when Keith cuts in. "Vladnok," he says. "We're on guard. This is not a brothel or a pleasure house. Get back to duty." Vladnok's smile fades at the threat in his voice, and she leans back and watches the Prince for a second.

Then she turns and walks out, bowing her head in respect at Keith. His eyes trail her retreating form. "Keith, I... what she said isn't true."

Keith raises his eyebrows and turns his gaze on Prince Lance, who immediately looks like he regrets what he just said.

"I mean... it's true, but that's not the story. Nyma twisted it. We - we fell in love. We were in a relationship, and I took her into the palace once, yeah, but I caught her trying to steal half of my sister's jewelry. So I left her."

Keith's face remains emotionless.

"I didn't want you to find out..."

"A relationship? Sounds illegal for a Prince," Keith says.

Lance looks stricken. "Well... yeah, I know..." he says it slowly with some false nonchalance, the tone someone would use while saying 'well, sure, but...' almost betrayed, almost sad.

Keith pulls in a breath. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it and turns and walks out.

He sends Vladnok up to watch traffic and starts pacing around on the floor, purposely ignoring Prince Lance's stare, trying to understand why he feels... so sad.

When he does finally turn to look, Prince Lance is asleep.

Keith leads the interrogation of the noble that killed his parents two days later.

It's simple to get in, find the wife and children, silence them. Keith tracks the noble down right before he disappears into an apparent secret passageway behind his bed.

"Sir Deryk Alkendra Hitchcroft," Keith says quietly as other members of the Galra push him down into a chair.

"I don't know what information you want from me," he's already pleading. God, how pathetic. "But please let my wife and children go."

"We'll keep them for as long as we need to," Keith says. "Call it leverage."

"They didn't do anything!"

"Are you aware that you displaced thousands of impoverished people for the building of your fountain? Do you admit that you committed financial fraud to manipulate their holdings and force them out of their houses to continue with your construction?"

The noble sets his jaw against that. "I'm an honorable man."

Keith's eyes flick to one of the Galra, who flicks the safety off his gun pointed at the noble's fifteen year old.

The noble's eyes widen. "I did it. I did it, and I admit it was wrong, but I'll stop-"

And so it continues. They glean information from him slowly - access to his bank account, his cash vaults, his black money, confessions to crimes, some of which Keith didn't even know about prior to today, everything he knows about entering the Castle (nothing helpful there), and he's been surprisingly compliant. He must really love his wife and children. And that makes Keith really angry.

"Do you remember," he growls, "a certain dinner party, twenty years ago, that you were late to? That you were urgent to get to?"

The noble's eyebrows furrow.

"So urgent you killed an innocent man and woman, brutally orphaning their son? Do you remember getting away with it without so much as a warning?"

The noble shakes his head fearfully. "I have no idea what you're talking about-"

Keith slams his foot into the noble's pudgy stomach, leaving him coughing and gagging and trying to curl in on himself from the pain.

Maybe it's a good thing he's here. Sendak is brutal. His men are well used to what Keith's about to do.

Because his first reaction is to kill this man. Maybe slowly. But it won't be enough. Keith wants him to feel how Keith felt. Wants him to suffer. Wants him to wish he were rather dead, the way Keith did after his family was taken away from him.

"I was that child," Keith growls. "And I want you to know the pain I felt." He swings two fingers in the direction of the fifteen year old - there's a flash of light and he drops.

" _No!_ " the noble screams, sobbing, voice tight. "No, my - my - you godless criminal, you _monster_ -"

"Great feeling, isn't it?" Keith snarls. "Do you want me to pay for what I just did? Do you want justice?" He fists his hand in the noble's sweat-drenched shirt. "So did I. But did I get it?"

He points his fingers again and one of the twin sisters' throats is blown out. The wife is crying, screaming as loud as she can through the gag. The noble's face is pale white. He's blubbering nonsense - "I'm sorry - I remember, I'll give you whatever you want, please, they didn't deserve it - I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I never forgot - I didn't think you'd - I didn't think - that it mattered-"

"Don't worry," Keith says comfortingly, a sick smile twisting onto his face. "You brought this on them. This is what justice looks like. You can consider this karma."

He pulls back, draws his newer knife, and slices through first the remaining twin eighteen year old and then the wife. He stands over their bodies for a moment, trying to settle himself before he throws up.

Turns back around.

Walks back over to the broken noble and plunges his knife into his shoulder, pinning him to the chair. "Thanks for your time."

And that's that.

Sendak's waiting when they get back. Supposedly his vacation plans just didn't work out. He congratulates Keith, says he already watched the video roll, draws him in for a rough embrace and claps him on the back.

"You're a true member of the Galra tonight, Commander Keith," he grins. "Come drink with us."

"I'll take watch," Keith growls instead, frowning and pushing past him.

He plans to take guard again that night with Thace, because Keith knows he'll leave him alone, but Thace informs him that Lotor's said they only need one person to keep guard and trip the alarm from now on. Which is all the better for Keith, really.

"Are you okay?" Prince Lance asks him as soon as Keith enters the room, and Keith's face crumples and he collapses to his knees at the foot of the bed. "Hey," the Prince is murmuring, crouching down to meet Keith's eye level as Keith leans back against the bed. "Hey, come on. What's going on? You've been tense all day. Is everything okay?"

Keith shakes his head. "I killed his family."

Prince Lance furrows his brows. "...whose family?"

"Hitchcroft," Keith hiccups, and then the tears come and he furiously rubs his palms into his eyes. "The noble who killed my parents. I went today to interrogate him and I - I lost control. I killed his family."

Prince Lance is silent, something in his eyes warring with itself like he's trying to pick a side.

"I shouldn't have. I regret it - I-"

"Shh," Prince Lance says, pulling Keith into his arms. "It's okay. He ruined your life. I understand." He smells surprisingly clean even while Keith's pressed up against him, and it compels Keith to just let go and sob freely into Lance's shoulder.

It goes on for only half a minute before Keith is pulling away, shaking his head and wiping away at his face.

"You can let it out, Keith," Prince Lance says softly. "It's just me. You don't... you don't have to hide from me."

Keith shakes his head. "Not here. Anyone can come in at any time, not h- Let's go to my room."

"Slight problem with that," Lance says, chuckling softly, and Keith makes an annoyed face before wrapping his hand around the back of the lock that shackles Prince Lance's ankle to the bed.

A light blinks on in the keyhole. "Override," Keith says in a slightly shaking voice. "Kogane."

It clicks open and Keith pulls it off roughly, flinging it to the floor, wasting no time in grabbing the wrist of a shocked Prince Lance and dragging him up. He stalks out the Hall and through the different pathways and up stairs and through locked doors until he's striding down the Commanders' Quarters Hall, one floor below the top where Lotor is.

Prince Lance blows out a breath. "Wow. You... have got quite some status in this place, hm."

Keith ignores him and pulls him through the door to his room, finally letting go of his hand to shut the door and lean back against it.

Prince Lance looks around. "This is... _nice,_ " he says appreciatively, and then turns back to pay attention to Keith sliding down to the floor. "Keith..." then he's kneeling down in front of Keith again. "Let's.... go sit on the bed. Okay?"

Keith nods, emotions storming darkly inside him, and lets Lance pull him up and gently lead him to the queen bed. He slumps both of them down into the twenty something pillows, just giving Keith time to breathe for a bit.

"I wish it had never happened," Keith whispers into the darkness. "I wish I could have grown up and had a normal life with my parents. I don't... I don't enjoy all this shit. I don't like killing people. But I..." he doesn't know what else to say.

"Yeah," Prince Lance says kindly. "But if you hadn't been taken into the Galra you would have struggled even more to live decently. Maybe you would have lived in fear of corrupt authorities and in fear of the Galra. And you never would made some people pay for the awful things they did, even if they pay unfairly. And…” Brief hesitation. “Well, you never would have met me. So... even though it sucks... you're okay, Keith. And you'll stay okay."

That brings Keith to tears again - because he's okay. He's _okay._ No one's ever told him that before - it's always _you're a criminal_ or you're a prodigy. He's never been just... okay. He lets the tears roll down his face this time, alone with Prince Lance in the safety of his room.

Prince Lance wipes them off. "Don't be sad, Keith," he says gently. "You are loved."

Keith laughs. "I'm not loved."

"That's not true-"

"I'm a criminal. I'm an orphan. I'm not loved."

Prince Lance's face is complicated. Something concerned, maybe. "I just... I didn't... That's what people told me whenever I was upset..." He finishes.

"You take one of the most cherished things in the world for granted," Keith says. "You're loved. I'm not."

Prince Lance is quiet. "Well..." he starts. "Well, I love you."

Keith stills, unsure if the Prince is saying it in the way Keith first interprets it as. He's about to say _thanks_ when Prince Lance leans closer and presses his lips to Keith's, soft and shy and gentle, confirming that yes it definitely _is_ in the way Keith first interprets it.

Keith finds himself chasing after Prince Lance's lips for a split second when he pulls away, despite the fact he didn't kiss back. He opens his eyes, focusing on the Prince's downcast gaze, the blue of his eyes muted in the darkness.

"Is that what your family did when you were upset, too?" he says, laughing softly.

"No," Prince Lance huffs, cheeks darkening.

"Good, because it didn't make me really feel better. But thank you."

"...Thank you?"

Keith doesn't respond, just leans forward to rest his head on Prince Lance's shoulder. After another hesitant few seconds, Prince Lance's hand comes up and weaves into Keith's hair from behind.

They slump back into the pillows, close together under the blankets, and Keith finally drags himself out at three in the morning with sore burning eyes. "Let's go," he murmurs.

"Mm."

"If you don't want both of us killed, we have to go. You're still a prisoner here."

Prince Lance doesn't open his eyes, but pouts into the pillow, and Keith laughs. He leans down, and on an impulse, pecks Prince Lance once briefly on the mouth before standing and pulling the blankets away.

Prince Lance moans and rises off the bed, reaching out toward Keith in the darkness. He pulls at Keith's shoulder, trying to bring their mouths together again, but Keith shoves his palm up in the way. "You're like a little kid," he huffs quietly.

"Mean."

"Sh." Keith turns to the door, pulling Prince Lance along behind him. "We gotta get you back."

"Let's leave."

"What?"

"Let's run."

Keith pauses, one hand on the doorknob. He turns back to look at the Prince, who's rubbing his hand against his sleepy eyes.

Keith leans backwards. "That's not an option," he says. "This is my home. And I can't let you free if I want to stay alive. And I'm not leaving my home."

Prince Lance meets his gaze, and then drops his eyes to the floor. "Right, sorry," he says. "I forgot that you're.... that I'm your prisoner."

That hurts Keith somewhere deep in his chest, but he turns back around and pulls Prince Lance through the door.

And the Prince is shackled to the bed and Keith is back on watch by the time anyone else wakes up, like nothing happened.

Something's different, now, though. It's different in how the Prince starts openly flirting with Keith even though they don't kiss again. It's different in how Keith finds himself going almost out of his way to get Lance new blankets, a new mattress, new clothes. How Keith makes an effort to switch the shackle to Lance's wrist every once in a while so he can change his pants and no one gets too suspicious. How Lance does try to kiss him again, several times, actually, despite Keith's consistent rejection. How Keith actually goes and gets _soap_ and _shampoo_ and _cutlery_ and _toilet paper_ , all for the sake of Prince Lance's comfort.

How Keith tries to avoid taking watch again because he's starting to definitely catch on to what's happening, but finds himself only able to resist for so long because two weeks later it's the dead of night and Prince Lance is back in Keith's room. And he finally, finally lets Lance kiss him again. Finally kisses back this time. Falls asleep wrapped in his arms. Wakes him up with a kiss again at three in the morning to sneak back to the Hall.

And that's when Keith is finally able to say it - he's falling in love.

With the motherfucking Prince of the Altean Empire.

Who has a ransom over his head for ten billion, final.

Who says his family won't pay.

Who promises to fix things if he gets back to the Castle.

Who flirts.

This is not good.

"Am I better than that other guy?" Prince Lance asks him on the fourth night that Keith brings him up to his room.

Keith frowns at him. "Other guy?"

Prince Lance twists his lips like he's in thought. "The silent one who never takes off his mask except to make out with you in the corner of the room."

Keith blinks. "Oh. Regris."

Prince Lance holds his gaze steady.

"He's... important to me," Keith decides.

"Am I important to you?" the Prince asks hesitantly.

Keith snorts. "I've had my tongue down your throat more than a couple times in the last month."

"Is that a yes?"

Keith rolls his eyes.

But the truth is he really doesn't know what the hell he's going to do once he admits it out loud.

So it goes.

Ten billion.

Keith doesn't know where they're going.

He leaves on a mission that takes a good four months to pull off. A police infiltration during which he almost gets caught a few times. They save a few people, though, assassinate a couple corrupt officials. As one does.

When he does return to Galra headquarters, he doesn't greet Prince Lance because he's exhausted as all hell. He walks in and goes straight to his room, passes out for about eighteen hours. When he wakes up it's lunchtime and the Hall is packed as he shovels down his food - more time goes by without his greeting the Prince. Regris finds him and greets him with a kiss, sliding into the seat next to Keith and subtly pulling him into his lap.

Keith leans back into his chest, closing his eyes as he chews.

"Glad to see you again," Regris murmurs softly.

"Me, too."

Keith takes watch two nights later, and brings Lance a change of clothes. The Prince rockets up in his bed at the sound of Keith's voice as Keith calls his name quietly.

"Holy shit," he says, rising and moving to pull Keith into a tight embrace. "Keith," he says into his hair. "I actually thought you were dead."

Keith laughs. "Here. Change."

Lance pulls back and takes the clothes, smirking. "Want to help me?"

"No," Keith says pointedly.

He tries to tell himself to just do his job for once, but an hour later Lance is in his room and they're on the bed making out. Lance is handsier than before - he'd been slowly getting more and more comfortable with Keith before the mission, but now it's like he can't get enough, fingers roaming over every part of Keith's skin they can find, and Keith loves every second of it.

The Prince’s hands are soft, the hardest thing they’ve ever held being a pen or folds of cloth. They’re gentle. Comforting. Warm, sparking up Keith’s sides and over his stomach and around the back of his neck and down his thighs. He’s shamelessly feeling Keith up, and Keith’s shamelessly enjoying it.

“Missed me..?” Keith breathes out.

“ _Yes,_ ” Lance says passionately, his voice dead serious in a way that sends shivers down Keith’s whole spine. Lance’s smile pushes against Keith’s lips as he keeps kissing him, sliding and pressing warm and slick into Keith’s mouth. It fills Keith up, relaxes him, takes him high and brings him down to earth all at once. He’s... it’s nice. It feels good.

“Mm, that’ll be a problem,” Keith chuckles as he breaks away again. “What are you gonna do when you’re off and married to a pretty princess somewhere?”

“Why would I marry a princess? No princess could reach the beauty you have.”

“Mm, like I said, relationships sound illegal for someone like y- Mmph.”

Lance kisses him firmly before speaking softly against his lips. “I am the law. Nothing is illegal if I do it. And besides.” He tilts and locks his lips over Keith’s again, letting the kiss deepen for just a brief moment before saying, “everything about you is against the law.” Kiss. “Your lifestyle.” Kiss on the jaw. “Where you live.” Kiss just below the earlobe. “How you’re keeping me here against my will.” Kiss down the neck. “How good you look all the damn time.”

Keith huffs a laugh. “Well, you’re welcome to leave. You know where the door is.”

Lance hums his dissent, finally leaning back and hooking his fingers under the hem of Keith’s shirt. Keith lets him pull it off, helping it off his arms, grinning when the Prince throws it aside and just gazes in hazy appreciation before Keith loses patience and grabs him and pulls him back down to meet their lips together.

“Aw, let me help you out of that,” Keith purrs into the Prince’s mouth, letting his hands trail teasingly up Prince Lance’s sides before pulling off the shirt in one tug. He’s slender underneath his clothes, lean and curved elegantly in at the waist, shoulders broad and defined. Keith frowns at the edge of a red mark over Lance’s shoulder, but he’s just as quickly distracted from it.

Lance splurges, kissing down Keith’s abdomen and rubbing his hands up and down Keith’s skin. Warmth blooms through Keith, fire and heat radiating from every point of contact.

Lance is moving back up to Keith’s neck when he pauses, lips hovering over Keith’s collarbone. His hand trails up to Keith’s throat and his thumb brushes lightly over a sensitive spot that sends shivers down Keith’s entire body, fading from yesterday.

And then he sighs, breath flattening over Keith’s chest, clearly trying to suppress a frown as his eyes drop.

“Lance...” Keith mumbles.

He’s quiet for a bit. Then he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, steadying himself. “Okay. I understand that - that me and you are some kind of item, but I also understand that you and your other friend are - together, to some extent. And unfortunately I can’t continue here when I know that you’re not mine.”

The words all come out in a shaky rush, and Keith frowns. “Regris is... a close friend,” he mumbles.

Lance laughs under his breath, not meanly, but it’s still painful to hear. “This is not something that close friends do.” He continues after a few seconds pass and Keith says nothing. “It’s not something that we do, either,” the words like fresh down, fluttering across the distance between them, untouchable.

Keith’s lips turn down slightly. “I... I want to, though.”

Lance raises his eyebrows in genuine surprise, hesitancy saturating his gaze. “ _Do_ you? You’re not very easy to get a read on.”

“Yeah,” Keith says incredulously. “What did you think?”

Lance frowns, drawing back a little. “I don’t know what to think. I just know you’re... that I’m not really anything unique to you, I guess.”

Keith frowns, shaking his head slowly. There’s an unbearable amount of pain in Lance’s quiet voice. “Yes, you are.” He curls his hands around Lance’s back, trying desperately to convince this man they’re doing everything right. “Regris doesn’t... he’s important to me, but he likes me a lot more than I like him, and... and you’re...”

Keith fades off at the nearly imperceptible quiver in the Prince’s jaw muscles. He rubs his fingers over a spot on the Prince’s back again, and his eyes flutter closed, jaw tensing. The skin under his fingertips is raised.

“Lance...?” Keith questions softly.

“Hm,” Prince Lance whines. Keith shifts, propping himself up on his elbows, pulling Lance closer and then peering over his shoulder at the criss-cross pattern that angrily cuts through Lance’s smooth tan skin. His breath goes shallow.

“Who did this?”

Silence. Keith grips Lance’s shoulders tighter.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Someone.”

“Why?”

“Well, if they can’t get money out of me, they’re gonna try for information next.”

Keith’s jaw slackens. It’s not - not exactly abnormal, but - but this is _Lance._ The harshest thing he’d ever felt before now was probably a sharp gaze or an angry comment. “And you didn’t just give it to them? Why? You’re suffering!”

“Because you told me not to,” Lance laughs helplessly.

They’re _torturing_ him.

“Not important. What’s important is what you were saying just now.”

Lance leans up to look into Keith’s eyes. “Wh...?”

“You don’t like Regris as much as he likes you? And I’m.... something..?”

Keith’s eyes widen. “ _That’s_ what’s important right now?”

“It’s pretty fucking important to me, yeah,” Lance says, voice raw and jagged like shattered glass.

Keith shakes his head incredulously. “Regris saved my life on a mission we were on together once. I owe him my attention. But you, Prince Lance, you’re...”

“I’m what?”

Keith stares, at a loss for words. “You...”

Lance is trying to hold back disappointment again, Keith can see it on his face in the dark.

“You mean so much more to me,” Keith whispers, so quiet even he can barely hear it.

“How much?”

“I - isn’t it obvious?” Keith’s voice breaks.

Lance chews his lip. “Say it.”

“What is so important about me saying it-“

“Because you haven’t ever once said it,” Lance struggles out. “We fool around but you never say - you never let me know if - if we’re. If this is mutual or if ... you never say it.”

Because Keith’s afraid that if he says it, it’ll go away. If he acknowledges something good, fully appreciates it, then it won’t stay with him for long. Is that why he goes so easily with Regris?

Keith closes his eyes, trying to calm his fears. If Lance leaves, Keith will have nothing left.

But if Lance leaves, he’ll get his life back. He’ll go back to being pampered instead of tortured. So.

Even if Keith’s philosophy holds true, he supposes it’s okay if it means Lance doesn’t have to hurt so much anymore.

“I care about you,” Keith breathes. “I want to see you smile and laugh. I like watching the way you walk, the way you stretch your arms. I want you to be happy. I can’t stand the thought of people hurting you, even if they’re my own people. I... I love you a lot, Lance.”

“... More than-”

“ _Yes._ More than Regris, so much more than Regris. You’re the only one I’m ever thinking about.”

Lance lowers his eyes and leans in close, pushing his nose against the side of Keith’s, nuzzling him gently. “I love you too,” he says, his voice so much more confident and full than Keith’s. “I guess that’s a hard concept for you to deal with, but I love you all the more for it.”

Keith frowns, wanting to protest, wanting to figure out who was responsible for the wounds that mar Lance’s back. But then Lance’s lips are pressing softly against Keith’s own, with none of the heat or the hunger from before - just constancy and gentleness. Tenderness pours into Keith from every point of contact, springing tears in Keith’s eyes and a smile to Keith’s lips in spite of the circumstances.

He’s fucked.

He’s in love and - “I’m fucked,” he whimpers. “I am royally _screwed_.”

“Not yet, you aren’t. Shall we finish what we started?” Lance murmurs into Keith’s skin.

“Lance, your back-“

“Hey.” Lance pushes his mouth to Keith’s to quiet him. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk later. It’s not going to go away if you fuss over it.” Then he smiles. “But thanks for your concern.”

Keith frowns, anguished but so, so desperately wanting to bend to Lance’s suggestions.

Lance hums, melting back into Keith as his hands slide down to his hips, mouth latching onto the fading bruise on his neck and sucking _hard_ until Keith can’t bite back a moan. Lance is intent on taking his sweet damn time, so Keith reaches down to unbuckle his own pants, before Lance gets the hint and breaks off from Keith’s neck to slide Keith’s legs free. He doesn’t waste much time in tugging off his own pants before surging back down to close in on Keith’s mouth again.

Keith fumbles with the drawer to his side for his lube - Lance turns curiously to eye the bottle. “What’s that?”

“Lube,” Keith pants, raising an eyebrow.

The unasked question hazes over the Prince’s features.

“Never messed around with a man before, have you?” Keith teases, although his breathlessness ruins the effect somewhat.

“I... have,” Lance says hesitantly, so Keith laughs.

“Alright, then, guess you know what you’re doing.” Keith passes him the bottle.

Lance quirks up an eyebrow before squeezing out a generous amount on his fingers, idly rubbing it between them.

Keith decides to take pity on him and pulls his head down into another kiss, gently circling his fingers around the Prince’s wrist and guiding them down into Keith’s underwear. He picks up on the hint, cautiously circling one finger around Keith before slipping it inside.

Keith’s breath stutters, fingers gripping at Lance’s hair as the other man starts to lightly finger him.

It’s when Lance pushes a second finger in when he brushes against Keith’s prostate. “Fuck,” Keith whines, legs tensing around the Prince in between them, toes curling.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it feels- _Fuck,_ keep going.”

Lance chuckles, and Keith cracks one eye open to see Lance’s flushed face looking fondly down at him. Open and soft as a flower.

God, he’s so screwed.

Because there’s no scenario where this ends well.

But for now-

Keith gasps as Lance pulls his fingers out, letting Lance swallow his exhalation up in another lovingly sweet kiss. His fingers are tugging down Keith’s briefs, hips grinding down to keep Keith from maintaining any grasp on reality. And if Keith thought Lance was a good kisser - whether Lance has ever had sex with a male before is irrelevant because his confidence drenches them both and it’s intoxicating.

Lance takes his sweet time leaving hickeys all over Keith’s neck, keeping up the friction with his hips as Keith struggles to keep his cool. Distantly there’s the sound of a condom package being ripped open - Keith guesses Lance grabbed it out of his drawer, and that’s about as far as his chain of thought gets.

“Prince Lance,” Keith murmurs.

“Aw, come on-“

“ _Lance,_ ” Keith amends. “Please, please- fuck.”

Lance snickers. “Good enough.” He wastes only half a second in lining himself up, kissing Keith full on the lips as he pushes in and Keith squirms, gasps, tenses his thighs. Lance starts to move gently, slowly, like he’s still trying to be as soft as possible, but Keith needs more - needs _rough,_. He bucks his hips up to meet Lance’s thrusts as he starts to pick up the pace, nonsense slipping out of the space between Keith’s lips.

And the foreplay has gone on so fucking long that Keith’s not even embarrassed when they’re barely a minute into it before his vision is flashing with white - every muscle in his stomach clenches all at once as warmth overwhelms him and he comes, the Prince pulling out and following after him. Lance slumps into the sheets at Keith’s side, incessantly kissing all over Keith’s face, hands lingering as they smooth up and down Keith’s arms and shoulders and neck.

Keith kisses him back lazily, mind numbing over as he lets the feeling overtake him for a bit.

He wants to cry.

Because there’s no scenario where this ends well.

“ _Now_ you’re royally screwed,” Lance murmurs before kissing the lobe of Keith’s ear. Keith reaches up bindly and smacks his shoulder. He laughs in response and curls his arms around Keith, pulling him closer. “I love you, Keith.”

Keith smiles hesitantly into the darkness. Sleep is pulling at him. But…

But he can’t.

He physically can’t let this go on for any longer than it already has.

He allows ten, twenty minutes to tick by, and then he lifts his heavy body off the bed and tiredly pulls his clothes back on. Lance stirs, whines a little at the absence of Keith’s warmth.

“Lance,” Keith mutters softly. “Get up.” He reaches to his belt and fits it back through the loops, unsheathes his knife and grips it hard to try to still the shaking in his hand. What he’s about to do...

Lance obliges slowly, sighing unhappily as Keith stands, tense, waiting. When he finally stands, his shirt’s on backwards, but that’s fine.

Keith studies the soiled sheets for another second. There’s… really no need to clean them, now, he guesses. He grabs his gun and shoves it into the holster at his belt line, trying to relax his grip on his blade. “Let’s go,” he mumbles. Keith pushes past Lance, grabbing him by the elbow on the way out the door.

He’s more tense than usual whenever he escorts Lance back to the Hall, and Lance notices - “are you okay?”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m fine.” Down the stairs. Don’t look back. Stay alert.

As soon as he opens the door to the Hall, though, he finds himself face to face with a gun. He gasps and stops short, the doors swishing closed behind him, Lance’s breathing heavy.

The woman behind the trigger is bedecked in royal attire, jeweled crown and all - hair brushed through with gold and curling luxuriously down to her waist. Her eyes are fierce blue, the same shade Keith was looking into just an hour ago.

Her voice shakes as she speaks. “Lance.”

“Allura,” Lance breathes.

The Princess addresses Keith. “Let him go. Take me instead. Let him go back to the Castle, and hold me for ransom - you’ll get your money.”

“Allura, no - you have to get out of here,” Lance whispers urgently.

“No,” she says determinedly. “You do. I’ll stay.”

Keith huffs in disbelief. “Your entire family,” he scowls. “Is daft. Do you, by any chance, know how to tuck in a bed sheet, Princess?”

“Hey,” Lance mutters, while the Princess gives him a strange, tear-filled look.

Keith rolls his eyes, brings up his knife to push aside the gun pointed at him. As he suspected, she struggles to hold it upright, wrist locked too tight, fingers inexperienced. “Come on,” he growls. “It’s past your bedtime.”

He pushes past her - she shies away from his blade as he pulls Lance toward the wide open front doors.

“What are you-”

“Sh.” Keith gestures her to follow him with his chin. “I’m taking you two back to your precious Castle.”

“What?” Lance breathes. “Where will you go?”

“To jail? I don’t know. But I can’t do this anymore.”

The Princess hurries to keep up with Keith, Lance stumbling with the quick pace as Keith bars the door from the outside and leads them along down the street.

“You’re an idiot,” he scowls, “coming here. You don’t know these people, Princess.”

She makes an offended noise. “And I suppose you couldn’t have taken a little less time on your undercover mission?”

He dips into an alley he knows leads through to the main Galra underground network before rounding on the Princess, finally letting go of Lance’s arm. “I’m Galra,” he says, lets the words fall flat and clear. “Okay? I’m one of them. And if you want to make it out and back to your house before someone tracks us down, I suggest you keep quiet.”

Her response is cut off by the sudden appearance of a Galra member walking by - he passes them in the alley perpendicular to where they hold their breath.

But Keith’s not taking any chances. He moves swiftly, coming up behind the man and slitting his neck - he slumps to the ground noiselessly. Keith looks back at a shocked brother and sister.

“Let’s go,” he mutters.

It’s done. Irreversible, now. He’s turned his back on the only home he’s had in years.

They follow him wordlessly, not daring to challenge his judgement every time he shoves them into a different alley or asks them to stay put while he goes to eliminate any threat of them being discovered.

The alleys put them out right up near the Castle wall - he lets out a breath of relief when guards spot them after a minute or so and come rushing.

“Bye, Lance,” he murmurs as the lights draw nearer.

“Wait,” the Prince says in a panicked voice. “Wait-”

“Princess Allura! Prince Lance!”

Keith bows his head as the guards immediately recognize the insignia on his clothes and take action - they’re royally trained, much better than the common street criminal Keith is. He’s on his knees in seconds, arms held up behind him and knife and gun gone.

“Wait a minute! That’s - wait-”

There are too many voices. Keith can feel his arms being lashed together, hear Lance’s weak protests, Allura’s orders to take them back to the Castle, the fussing of the guards.

The urge to cry is gone, now, though.

He isn’t taken back with Lance and Allura. He’s taken down while they’re escorted up, pushed into a dark cold place populated with other men and women - Keith recognizes a couple from his years with the Galra.

They don’t know he’s a traitor. Their eyes just widen in recognition - a Commander? Taken by the Royal Guard? Unheard of.

Keith’s numb inside. He did his job. He settles down against the wall, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander. Maybe if he confesses all his crimes, he’ll be given the death penalty - it seems the best option at this point.

It’s hours later when he hears his name.

“Keith.”

He frowns. Can’t be right. His muscles are still lethargic from fucking the Prince and running through the underground network and being dragged down to the dungeon -

“Keith! Damn it, wake up!”

Keith opens his eyes and forces himself to stand, walking over to the faint pool of light by the door. Lance is standing there, face hollow with tiredness. He smiles when they make eye contact. “What?”

“Let’s go.”

Keith frowns as Lance slots a key into the door and swings it open.

“Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

Lance considers. “Running away.”

Keith snorts.

“I’m serious!”

“You’ve got to stay,” he says. “You made a promise to me that when you got back here you’d fix the problems we just left behind.”

Lance’s face falls. “I would - but me and you can just leave instead. We can stay on the run - you know how to handle yourself, and I’ve got money and resources and connections…”

Keith shakes his head, stepping out of the dungeon and letting Lance close it behind him. “You should know by now, Lance,” he laughs. “I’m Galra. My life is spent for the betterment of the people who are neglected by the royalty.” He turns his smile to Lance. “Can’t let you neglect the people, royalty. Thanks for your concern, though.”

Lance takes a moment to process this. He bites his lip. “So, you’re leaving?”

Keith shrugs. “Unless you want to throw me back in there? Yeah. I’m leaving.”

“Where will you go?”

Keith smirks. “Can’t tell you that. It’s your job to look for me and bring me to justice.”

Lance shakes his head. “Stay with me, then, I’ll work it out…”

Keith pulls him in for a kiss. He lets it last, firm and warm, slow. A farewell. “I’ll come back and find you every so often. Okay?”

Lance’s eyes are moist. “Okay.”

Keith gives him one last kiss. Then he lets go and turns his back, heading up the stairs by himself.

He doesn’t know how long it is until Lance follows.

But he’s long gone by then.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my other works ;)
> 
> [tumblr](https://stupid-altean-pools.tumblr.com/)


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